it complicates matters that he won’t stay dead
that he doesn’t parish or fade
doesn’t decay with slow ferocity
months ago are only days ago
hours ago
seconds ago
reminiscent thoughts turn my stomach sour
and they sink in
rot
as peaceful strangers, we have blind eyes for one another
turn cheek and grin
pretend there is not a knife in my back
or a pit of iron in his heart
or a corpse between us.
Author notes
I found this when I was cleaning my room today. I can't remember when I wrote it. A month or so ago probably.
This is not what I intended...
Comments
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reminiscent thoughts turn my stomach sour
and they sink in
rot
love this. it brings the sinking feeling to a new low. lower than below. like small tremors in the hand filled with anger, resentment, or maybe tragedy happening.
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wonderful vocab.
[:
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